Travelling Soldier
by Per Sempre
Summary: GSR, Alternate reality fic. Based on Travelling Soldier by The Dixie Chicks.
1. Chapter 1

Gil stood by the bus stop, his shaking hands wrapped around a brand new entomology textbook, his new black backpack hanging from his back. He had already said good-bye to his family. Thinking back to his eighteenth birthday party two days ago, he wondered if that might be the last time he would see everyone together. He sat down on the wood bench as he smoothed out his uniform of dark forest green. Cracked, dry leaves skittered across the ground as the wind blew. He took in the scent of autumn in Nevada for the last time. Checking his watch, he saw that he had about two hours left before the bus was even supposed to arrive. _I should have stayed at home longer,_ he thinks bitterly as he looks around for something to do to pass the time. Inside a nearby diner, a young girl, about fifteen or sixteen years old, was waiting tables. She had shoulder length brown hair and dark brown eyes. Though this may sound plain and boring, on her, it was very attractive. While he was staring, she looked at him and met his eyes. She quickly looked away and though the windows were slightly tinted, he could see her turn a deep scarlet. He sighs and smiles to himself. After a long internal debate, he decided to go to the diner to get lunch and strike up a conversation. After all, he knew that it would be the last time he saw a woman for at least two years. A bell rang as he entered and the girl walked to him, menu in hand.

"Table for one?" She asked with a smile on her face. He nodded, returning her smile shyly. He read her nametag; Sara.

"Sara. Pretty name." he said as he followed her to the table. She handed him the menu.

"Thanks." she replied.

He glanced down at the menu and decided on a french dip sandwich. She wrote down his order and as she began to walk away, he called her name. She arched her eyebrow and returned to the table.

"Yes, sir?" she asked. He leaned forward on the table, and with a nervous smile, asked

"Would you mind sitting down and talking with me for a while? I'm feeling a little lonely."

She gave him a confident smile and a wink.

"I'm off in an hour. I know where we can go."


	2. Chapter 2

After he had finished eating his lunch and she had clocked out, they walked down to the pier. She led him to the end of the dock and sat down, taking off her shoes and letting her bare feet dangle over the edge. She patted the spot next to her and looked up at him, holding her hand to her forehead to shield out the blinding sunlight. He sat down cross legged, resting his book in his lap, and looked out at the blue horizon, almost hypnotized by the ripples in the water. In Vietnam, he knew he wouldn't see anything like that. As he sat lost in his own thoughts, Sara looked down at the book.

"Entomology?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. Gil smiled.

"It's the study of insects." he answered sheepishly. He wondered if she was going to think he was boring for reading an entomology textbook.

"That's cool." she said, picking up the book and beginning to flip through the pages. She frowned and opened her mouth a little.

"You know, you don't seem like the kind of guy that would sign up for the army." she said in a confused, but almost accusatory tone. He smiled sadly.

"I'm not. I was drafted." he said. She nodded in understanding and looked down at the water beneath them.

"For how long are you leaving?" she asked.

"Two to four years." he answered, "I'm not exactly sure." Sara laid back on the dock, staring at the sky.

"What are you going to do when you get back?" she asked, placing her hands under her head. He shrugged.

"I was planning on becoming an entomologist." he said, "I wanted to do it now, but I guess I'll just have to wait until I get back." She closed her eyes.

"Yeah." she said in barely a whisper. She moved one of her hands to rest on her stomach. She thought of all the soldiers that had died because of this war, how many families had been left behind, how many wives had become widows. She wondered what the chances were that Gil would make it back safely to fulfill his dream. He sighed as he saw the concern etched in her face. He slid his hand on top of hers and she opened her eyes in surprise.

"Look, Sara. I bet you've got a boyfriend, but I don't care. I've got no one to send a letter to." he looked her deep in the eyes as he spoke, "Would you mind if I sent one back here to you?"

Her eyes lit up and she nervously fumbled with the bow in her hair.

"I'd like that" she said, as she chewed on her bottom lip and crossed her ankles. He smiled and entwined his fingers between hers. He glanced at his watch; half an hour until the bus was supposed to come. He pulled a small black notebook and a pen from his backpack and handed it to her. She wrote down her name and address, then handed it back to him. He read it. Sara Sidle. He put his hand around her waist.

"I've got to start heading back to the bus stop." he said quietly. She nodded and put her shoes back on before standing up. They continued to talk as they walked back to the bus stop hand in hand. Shortly after they sat down together on the bench, the bus arrived. Even though she had only just met him, it felt to her as if they had known each other forever. She watched him as he boarded the bus, but then, as she finally worked up the nerve, she tried to call him back.

"Gil!"

He looked back through the door. He let the other men pass him before he made his way back to Sara. He cocked his head to the side curiously.

"What?" he asked, and in reply, she took his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the lips. She pulled away, not removing her hands from his cheeks.

"I'll miss you," she said, slowly, reluctantly breaking contact. He nodded and hugged her tightly.

"I'll miss you, too. But I'll be back before you know it." he said comfortingly. He kissed her back and re boarded the bus. Sighing, she folded her arms and as the bus drove away, she waved. As soon as it disappeared from her sight, she sat down on the bench again, alone this time. Before she knew it, her face had tensed up and warm tears fell down her face. She couldn't explain why she was already so attached to a man she had just met. All she knew was that nothing would make her happier than the day he came back home.

As the bus left the station, he waved good-bye to her, surrounded by the hoots and hollers of the the young, excited soldiers crowded in the bus. But he couldn't even hear them over his own restless thoughts. He had never met a girl like her before, that he just instantly felt attracted to. All he knew was that nothing would make him happier than the day he came back home to her.


	3. Chapter 3

Sara headed home as the light of day began to fade and the moon and the stars began to appear above her. She wasn't sure exactly how long she had been sitting on that bench, but it only felt like ten or twenty minutes, and according to the change in light, it had definitely been longer than that. She wondered how long it would be before he sent her a letter and what it would say. She was so lost in her thoughts still that her trip home seemed to only take seconds. She could tell that her father was home by the car in the driveway. Carefully balancing on the stepping stones in the grass, she got to her front door. She checked the handle, and it was locked, so she knocked on the door. She heard heavy footsteps rushing toward the door and it opened, revealing her father, wearing a furious expression on his face.

"Where have you been?" he yelled more than asked. Her face fell and she swallowed hard.

"I was down by the pier with a friend," she said, her heart racing, "I lost track of time. I'm sorry."

Seeing the terrified expression on her face, his own expression softened and he lowered his voice.

"You had me worried sick." he said, moving out of the doorway to allow her entrance to the house. She came in and hugged him, apologizing again for being so late. As she sat down on the couch, he asked her how her day went.

"Good" she said, not bothering to explain what had happened earlier; she knew that her father wouldn't appreciate her being romantic with someone she had just met, especially not an eighteen year old soldier.

"I'm tired, though." she lied, "I'm going to bed." He nodded and hugged her good-night. She smiled and went to her bedroom. She turned on a small lamp beside her bed and pulled her journal out from underneath the mattress. She began to write.

_September 14th, 1967_

_Gil Grissom. For as long as I live, I will never forget the name. My mother always told me that you should never fall in love with a soldier because he'll take your heart to war; but as Gil said, when it comes to love, we are at the mercy of our biochemistry._

That night, she didn't sleep at all.


	4. Chapter 4

He looked out the bus window as they drove to the army camp in California. His textbook still lay in his lap, yet unread, for he knew he would have plenty of time to read in his tent when they reached Vietnam, but for now, he wanted to enjoy the scenery. They drove past several farms and he studied the cows and horses as they grazed. They were free, and he wondered how long it would be before he was, too; free to go back to school, free to become a doctor, free to raise a family, and most of all, free to be with Sara once again. He took a piece of paper and a pen from his backpack to start writing her a letter.

_Dear Sara,_

_I am on the bus as I write this and already I cannot keep my mind off of you. These next few years are going to be hell. I can't tell you how glad I am that I have you to send letters to._

Not knowing what else to write, he leaves it at that and puts it between the crisp pages of his book to finish later. He looked back out his window and though he tried not to listen in on the conversation between the soldiers next to him, he couldn't help but wonder how they could so enthusiastically talk about death and murder. He clenched his fists; he didn't understand what was so appealing. He stewed over this as he tried to think of a way to finish his letter.


	5. Chapter 5

A few days later, Sara was sitting outside on the porch when the mailman came. As usual, she scurried to him before he had even gotten a chance to put the letters into the mailbox. He smiled and rolled his eyes as he handed her the letter. When she looked at the return address to see who it was from, her heart practically skipped a beat. Gil. She grinned and, thanking the mailman and taking the rest of the mail, walked back into the house. She left her father's mail on the counter and took his letter opener. She carefully cut open the envelope. She took the neatly folded paper out and opened it up. Some of the words were smudged by what she assumed to be rain.

_Dear Sara,_

_I am on the bus as I write this and already I cannot keep my mind off of you. These next few years are going to be hell. I can't tell you how glad I am that I have you to send letters to._ _I don't seem to have anything in common with the other soldiers so far; they all seem like men, if you can call them that, that only got into the war because they want to kill. How disgusting._

_I am sorry that this is such a short letter, but I will write you again in a few days. Write me back, if you can. I would love to hear from you._

_Love,_

_Gil Grissom_

She squealed in excitement as she read the letter, saw his writing. She could even almost smell him on the paper. She laid back on her bed and held the paper to her chest as she stared at the ceiling. She was almost worried that he just wasn't going to write to her; but he did. He had kept his word. She had to take a deep breath and bite her lip to keep herself from screaming with giddiness. Once she had calmed down enough to form coherent sentences, she started to write a letter back to him.


	6. Chapter 6

Gil woke up and blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the light. For a moment, he did not remember where he was, but then he realized he was in his tent. They had finally arrived in Vietnam, and everything was starting to terrify him. He had been scared to go to war in the first place, but being in the war was nothing like he had imagined. He had to be careful when he went out, for anybody could be an enemy. It was a major contrast from the small town he was born in, where everyone was friendly to everyone else; it was almost unheard of to be rude or snippy. He sighs as he hears the trumpet telling all the soldiers to wake. After shimmying out of his sleeping bag, he clumsily pulled on his shirt, pants, and jacket. The letter he had started to write to Sara last night lay unfinished on his pile of clothes. They had been exchanging letters for a month or two now, and just seeing her name on the return address made him forget all about the war for a few minutes, and just focus on her. He was thinking about how to end it, and he knew exactly what he wanted to finish it with. The problem is, he did not know how she would react to it. She might be offended or scared, but on the other hand, she could be overjoyed by it. He sighed and sat down to think for a while. He read through what he had already written.

_Sara,_

_Things are getting really horrible over here. I have seen so many soldiers killed and it pains me. These are men who had their whole lives ahead of them and just like that, it is over. I would give anything to know for sure that I'll get out of this war alive._ _When it gets really rough over here, I think of that day sitting down at the pier. I close my eyes and I can see your pretty smile. Don't worry, but I won't be able to write for a while._

He decided to leave the ending for his next letter and to leave this one as it was. He wrote a salutation and signed it, sealing it securely in an envelope. He wrote her address on it and stuck it in his back pocket to send off when the mail carrier came around at breakfast.


	7. Chapter 7

Sara had overslept. The postman had arrived and for the first time in ages, her father had gotten the mail before her. She panicked, scrambling out of bed and changing into her day clothes before walking swiftly into the living room. Her father was sitting on the couch reading a letter with a frown. She could tell was from Gil by the paper it was written on. She took a deep breath as her father looked up at her.

"Who is this?" he asked, a trace of disappointment present in his voice. She looked down and sat on one of the chairs adjacent to the couch.

"Gil. He's.. a friend.." she lied unconvincingly. He narrows his eyes at her.

"Don't lie to me. He sounds more than a little friendly in this letter." he said accusingly, "When did you meet him? And when were you planning on telling me about him?"

She crossed her legs, knowing that this was not going to be a quick conversation. She had kept an important relationship from her father, but with good reason. He was a pacifist, completely opposed to the war and the soldiers fighting in it. Sure, Gil had been drafted, but she wasn't sure that he would understand.

"I met him a few months ago. He had some time before he had to get on the army bus, and he wanted someone to talk to. I agreed, and he asked if he could write letters to me." she paused, getting a little choked up as she remembered the day they met. "He's a good man, daddy."

He set the letter down on the table and sighed, putting his hand to his chin and stroking his beard.

"He's a soldier." he said. He paused and looked back up to her, a certain urgency and anger glimmering in his eyes. "I want to see the letters he wrote you. All of them."

He folded his arms and leaned back on the couch, wordlessly telling her that there was no point in arguing; he wanted to see them, and he was going to one way or another. She knew his body language well and slowly walked back to her room to collect her pile of letters from Gil. They were all neatly stored back in their original envelopes. She held them carefully in her arms and walked back to the room her father was in. She laid them gently on the coffee table. He roughly took one from the table and opened it up. He frowned as he read it.

"He wrote down his observations of bugs? And sketched them? What exactly do you like about this guy?" he asked insensitively. She sighed and looked away. She knew he would never understand anything about him.

"He wants to be an entomologist when he gets back." she said a little defensively. "And I love everything about him." She blushed as she thought about the word choice. Her father scoffed.

"Love? You don't know the first thing about love." he said airily. She looked at her feet, biting her tongue so that she wouldn't say anything more that might anger him.

"Why did he sign up to be a soldier if he's this much of a bookworm?" he asked wryly. She glared at him, still holding back.

"He didn't. He was drafted." she said coolly. He continued to read the letters as they sat there in silence.

"How old is he?" he asked, not looking up.

"He's eighteen." she said, taking a deep breath. He looked up, shocked.

"Sara, you're fifteen. What are you thinking, having a relationship with an eighteen year old soldier? He's too old for you. And how can you two be in love, if you've only physically been together once?" He paused, taking a deep breath. "I don't want you writing to him anymore."

She lept up from her chair angrily, not bothering to hold anything back anymore.

"I'm not a child. And _you_ wouldn't know the first thing about love. You're the reason that Mom left us." She felt only slightly guilty at making this accusation, for she had always known that it was his fault. "I won't stop writing to him."

Her father lept up from the couch, taking her collection of letters with him as he walked to the blazing fire. He tossed them in all at once. Sara's heart just about stopped as the paper curled and burned.

"What makes you think you're smart enough to make your own decisions?" he yelled, stomping to her side. She breathed deeply and heavily, fuming and afraid. When she didn't answer, he slapped her. She looked up at him in disbelief before going to her room, her footfalls heavy on the floor. She locked the door and laid on her bed. She felt so empty inside when she realized that all the letters he had sent her were gone. Gone forever, consumed by the unrelenting fire. She rolled over and pressed her face into her pillow, not stopping the giant sobs that emanated from deep inside her heart.


	8. Chapter 8

Weeks went by and there was no reply to his letter. He had no idea what was going on. After two weeks, he had started to pray that everything was all okay, but this day marked a month. He decided that he would write her another letter, this time, adding in his previously unwritten ending.

_Dear Sara,_

_I hope everything is okay. I haven't gotten a letter; I don't know whether it got lost in the mail_ _or you simply didn't send it. It has been a month since I sent out my last letter, and I'm worried that something has gone wrong_. _Please,if you receive this, send me something, anything, that will let me know you're okay._

He paused, nervous about writing the rest of the letter. He read and reread what was already on the paper, took a deep breath, and started to write again.

_I know that this is still in the middle of the war and there is still a chance that I might be killed. Maybe that's the reason I feel the need to ask you this now. When I get back, I don't want to spend another night away from you. I want to raise a family with you; I want to marry you. I know I don't have a ring, but I promise you, I'll buy you one. I love you, and I will for the rest of my life if you let me._

_Love,_

_Gilbert Grissom_

He took another deep breath and felt his heart racing. He knew there was no turning back now. He neatly folded the paper and slid it into the envelope. He took great care writing her address on the front, for he could not take the chance that the letter would not arrive back in Nevada. After he sealed the envelope, he dropped it in the mail and went back to his cot to read. His mind was so full with thoughts of her that his eyes merely scanned over the words.


End file.
